


A Half-blood Princemas

by shyfoxling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-10
Updated: 2011-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyfoxling/pseuds/shyfoxling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little scene from Severus's POV after the conversation with Draco that Harry overhears in "The Unbreakable Vow" (HBP Ch. 15).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Half-blood Princemas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scratchingpost1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchingpost1/gifts).



> Originally posted as a stocking gift [here](http://community.livejournal.com/fandom_stocking/115281.html?view=2286417#t2286417).

Severus scowled discouragingly at no one in particular as he ducked back into Slughorn's vile Christmas party and found himself a new corner of the gaudily decorated study to lurk in. He was a bit lacking in "Christmas spirit" under any circumstances, of course; just why he'd agreed to give the old man "the pleasure of his company", as the invitation had been phrased, he couldn't fathom (although he wouldn't have turned down a nice hot cup of gin punch just then, had there been any). But this was turning out to be one of the worse ones even on his bleak personal scale.

The conversation he'd just had with Draco had been disastrous, and he was beginning to get very concerned about the boy. It was like watching himself all over again, though much blonder: a misguided young man with no idea what he was really getting himself into, doing deeds he might regret forever to earn the esteem of people he would learn all too late he did not _want_ the esteem of, and proudly refusing to listen to reason withal. And Draco didn't even have the poor excuses of trying to make up for half-Muggle parentage or gain status or wealth.

He silently cursed Narcissa and Dumbledore both for what seemed like the thousandth time. Severus was trapped as neatly as if the two of them had planned it between themselves, and after nearly sixteen years of mostly doing what Dumbledore told him to do, he was very, very tired of being trapped. He had half a mind to tell Dumbledore that for Merlin's sake there _had_ to be some other solution to their predicament than having a _teacher_ commit a murder because a student could not! (Not that he hadn't had the urge to bloody strangle Dumbledore himself on occasion, but that was a different matter altogether.)

But more, he dreaded what scheme Draco might come up with next. It was frustrating in the extreme that he could neither coax the boy into sharing his plans nor sift them from his mind by Legilimency. It seemed that Draco's heart was not in the task—not that Severus blamed him much for that, exactly—and therefore his attempts on Dumbledore's life would be dangerously sloppy. Without his confidence it would be nearly impossible for Severus to prevent the injuries to other students that would, to judge by the recent case of Miss Bell, be certain to occur in their wake.

His mouth twisted with bitter humor at the thought. That had made twice this year that Severus had been called upon to halt the spread of powerful curses from fools' hands to the rest of their bodies. He wondered if his knowledge would soon be needed for a third such incident, or perhaps a poisoning. _Just shove a bezoar down the unfortunate's throat,_ he thought ruefully.

"...verus? Severus! I say, my boy, are you listening? Over here!"

Severus shook his head and came out of his reverie. Oh, no; Slughorn was trying to get his attention again. He briefly contemplated trying to sneak out under cover of the throng of bodies in the room, but the old man was already coming his way, two goblets of mead in his hands, trailed by an uncertain-looking lad Severus recognized as one of the three Ravenclaws in his seventh-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He was an attentive and competent student, of course, almost stereotypical Ravenclaw, but he wouldn't have described the boy as hugely talented, so he wondered what social connection he had that Slughorn obviously cared about but which Severus himself likely would not.

Oh, but too late. If there had ever been chance of escape, he'd lost it now. One of the goblets was being pressed into his hand; he was being urged to his feet; dull introductions were being made, some folderol about a cousin of Hassewell's here having made great strides in the field of curse-breaking and had Severus ever thought of testing the boy's something something something...

Severus sipped his unwanted mead and failed to make polite noises. Yes, _definitely_ one of his worse Christmases...


End file.
